I know normally you guys look to our movie guru, Kleinz Five Sev, for all your movie review needs, but since the mime is on the verge of irrelevance, I figured I’d drop a quick movie review of my own, get back to my blogging roots. Quick side note: for those of you wondering where the hell we’ve been all summer the answer is simple, I have no clue. Places? Doing…stuff? Bottom line is we’ve been gone, and I apologize for that. I know some of you count on the mime for your daily written entertainment, without the mime you’d slip into a severe depression and maybe lock yourself in a closet never to see the light of day again. Well if that’s the case, I’d probably find a new website. But, hey, thanks for the support!

Alright, now to the matter at hand, Toy Story 3. Ya boy spent his Sunday evening yesterday watching the third installment of this “American Classic” and let me start by saying, sweet moses it was not what I expected. By that I mean, spoiler alert, shit was mad sad, yo. Straight depressing, B. I’m talking right up there with Ladder 49 sad (R.I.P Joaquin…we hardly knew ye). First off, when I think of Toy Story I think of feel good flick of the year. I think of Randy Newman singing about friendship, and I think about the homey Woody, keeping it real. Well throw all that shit out the window, because in Toy Story 3 it’s all about the harsh reality of being a toy.

To start, Andy is going to college. Holy lord. I remember when he was like four. So there’s that. Makes ya feel real old even before the damn thing begins. And, as expected, his mom is cleaning the shit out of his room. We’ve all been there…hide the porn, amiright?? Yada, yada, he needs to either throw out the toys or their going up in the attic. Andy wants to toss em in the attic but his mom thinks he meant to throw them out…BOOM, toys are pissed. They think Andy turned on them, and rightfully so. Kid is kind of a dick now. So they hitch a ride to the nearest daycare, which turns out to be some sort of concentration camp for toys. Dark stuff, right? They’re forced into manual labor by a fat purple bear and a Ken doll. Buzz gets brainwashed, and Barbie is busy slutting it up with Ken. It’s a real mess.

Turns out, the purple bear had some life-altering horrible experience when he was younger, totally fucked up his mind, hence why he’s an evil douche now. Long story short, they try to escape, it doesn’t go so hot, they wind up at the toy incinerator (is this a real thing?) Couple aliens operating a crane save the day and Andy donates all his toys to some new chick down the street.

Moral of the story? I’m not really sure to be honest. Toys will get thrown out some day?

Just seemed kind of dark for a Toy Story flick, but then again they always toe the line between feel good story and tear-jerker. I remember when that pyro kid down the block tried to blow up buzz in the first Toy Story I cried for like three days straight. So I get it, but at the same time I don’t get it at all. The message the fine folks at Pixar are sending is A) toys are real, living creatures B) If you neglect them they’ll get super sad and C) If you lose a toy chances are it’ll turn into an evil control freak and start up a trail of tears camp at the nearby day care.

So bravo, Pixar. Hell of a sequel. Can’t wait for Toy Story 4: Zombie Toy Resurrection.

Well it’s been about a month since the mime’s been in action, and for that I, your fearless mime leader, apologize sincerely. It’s clear that our once steadfast promise to deliver the most premium written entertainment daily is a distant memory. I feel kind of like the deadbeat dad from Angels in the Outfield. Like I know my kid needs me, but I’d rather huff glue with drifters and make hollow promises about being a good dad the day some shitty ball club wins the ship instead.

Now, that doesn’t mean I can’t stop by my son’s school once every blue moon and pretend like I care. So consider this post a quick deadbeat blogger drop in, I’ll probably yell at you for listening to your mother too much, chug a Natty Ice tall boy and chances are I haven’t showered in a few days.

Alright enough with the lousy comparisons, let’s dive right in. Today I had an experience some might call “traumatic”. An experience that left me pissed off enough to hop on the world wide web and vent to the universe. That experience, if you can’t tell by the clever title of this post, was a fifteen minute trip to GNC. Yo, JD, why are you going to GNC in the first place? Need fish oil vitamins for high blood pressure or what? Nope, my blood pressure is legit. Actually, I go there to occasionally purchase protein powder. Hardy, har, har, laugh it up all you want. Here’s the deal, I like to keep it tight and keep it right, so naturally, I pump iron a few times a week. I Figure, hey, if I’m hitting the weight stacks regularly, I might as well chug a few protein shakes too, keep things swoll. But my protein intake to lack of muscle ratio isn’t important. What is happens to be the location of where my protein purchases often happen – a magical place called GNC.

Place is by far the single worst retail shopping experience you can get. I alluded to it in my Occupy This posting from way back, but I felt like today is a good time to expand on my hatred. If you’ve visited a GNC store in your lifetime, surely you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. Here’s how a shopping trip to hell typically goes:

1. You walk in. Chances are you’re the only customer and there can be anywhere from one to five employees waiting to pounce. If you somehow walk in unnoticed, do a victory dance and then sprint as fast as you can to what you want to purchase, throw a couple twenties on the counter and walk out. Don’t even bother getting change. Trust me.

2. An employee will ask you, “what brings you in today?” and usually end it with a “champ” or “bro” or “buddy” since they’re automatically your new personal nutritionist/best friend.

3. You’ll say, “Just grabbing some protein real quick” and will head directly towards where you think said protein is located.

4. Employee McTool will more than likely follow you and immediately critique the shit out of your selection…”Awww dude, we’ve got this new double whey mega blast powder that’s WAY FUCKING BETTER than what you’re looking at”.

5. If you’ve been there before you’ll probably shrug this comment off and head for the register. If you’re a GNC rookie you’re officially sucked in to the never ending selling vortex each GNC employee utilizes.

6. After what could wind up being an hour or two of running through all the “better deals” they have to offer you’ll head to the register to check out.

7. At this point you probably think you’re in the clear to pay and get the hell out of there. Noooo way, partner. Saddle up.

8. Cashier will ask you if you need any multivitamins, supplements, energy chews, omega 3 licorice ropes, hair softening breathmints, the list goes on and on.

10. They’ll start to ring you up…and STOP. Do you have a GNC gold card?

11. If you do, congrats, you better hope its the first week of the month or your gold card is useless. If you don’t, get ready to sign the fuck up for one.

12. You’ll sign up for your gold card. Chances are, its the 22nd of May and the card is useless, so you’ll pay for the fourteen items you suddenly realize you’re about to purchase.

13. Cashier will probably ask if you want to try one of the free mocha energy chew samples on the counter. Go ahead and try it, but be warned they taste like total ass.

14. Slide your debit card, sign your receipt and SPRINT TO YOUR CAR.

I wish some of that was an exaggeration, but unfortunately folks, it is not. At this point a number of you are probably thinking, JD if it sucks so much why don’t you go elsewhere? Or online? Good thought, reader. Problem is, I’m lazy and whenever I run out of protein, I scramble and go to the nearest shop which almost always happens to be a GNC. Plus, instead of waiting 5-7 business days for an online order, I like to drive there after work, because c’mon, my muscles can’t atrophy guys. My body is a temple, remember?

All in all, I think it’s safe to say GNC needs to switch up their methods. You’ve got damn near a monopoly on the nutritional supplements category, just ease off the suffocating sales pitches a little bit and I bet you’ll still do just fine. Oh and whatever SOP that says all employees must be muscular dickheads, yeah maybe burn that.

Not sure if any mime compadres have been watching CBS’ fine primetime programming lately, but if you have and it happened to be a Monday, you probably stumbled upon a few seconds of the second season of their “hit” show, 2 Broke Girls. Then you probably cancelled your cable plan and spot welded your eyes shut. Sweet baby rays BBQ sauce that show is awful. As much as I hate to admit it, I watched about seven minutes of it a few weeks back and as far as I can tell, it’s hands down the worst show ever made.

Don’t get me wrong, there’ve been A LOT of awful sitcoms in American history. I could write a freaking dead sea scroll listing all the shows I’ve turned on and then immediately turned off, and I’m sure you can too. For every one good show, there’s like 76 others that were immediately cancelled. So I won’t bore you with mini-rants on garbage programming like Blind Justice. I’ll just cut to the chase and go off on our lousy show of the hour, 2 Broke Girls.

For those not familiar, I’ll provide a sample clip. Feel free to watch, but just know that you’ll probably light your computer on fire ten seconds in.

UHH. Shut it off for the LOVE OF GOD!

And listen, I get it…. hey JD if you hate it so much then just don’t watch it! Valid point captain Mcannoyingface, but here’s the thing you’re forgetting. I live at home with my folks. Ya boy doesn’t necessarily have control of the tube on a nightly basis. For example, just last week I was in the kitchen heating up a two slices of leftover meatloaf and overheard 2 Broke Girls on TV. Enough to make even the most mentally tough men fly off the handle.

Here’s the 411 on the show. It’s a sitcom that debuted in 2011 to the dismay of, I can assume, every person on planet earth. It’s about two chicks in their twenties who are waitresses and, wait for it, happen to be down on their luck and BROKE. One has always been poor and the other used to be rich but now she’s poor, or something like that. Apparently the show was created by Whitney Cummings. A chick who is usually moderately hilarious in Comedy Central roasts, so that was a surprise to me. It stars some relatively hot blonde chick and the kinda goth, ugly daughter from 40 Year Old Virgin. How she got a primetime show is beyond me. And what bugs me the most about her is she’s constantly guilty of the excessive lipstick use. Worst look out there. Gaudy burgundy lipstick. Woof. Not much else to say regarding the plot of the show, lot of obnoxious one liners and a bunch of craptastic acting.

Plus, to make matters worse, they just signed on for a third season! Thank the lord! Was worried I wouldn’t have a couple of incredibly annoying wise-cracking broads to brighten up my Monday nights any more. Wheew.

I really want to know who the hell watches this show? Like seriously, if you’re reading this and you also happen to watch 2 Broke Girls on a regular basis, let me know. Send us an email. Maybe a quick one or two paragraph rundown on why. I honestly want to meet you, maybe pick your brain for a bit, find out just how horrible your sense of humor could possibly be. Because I sit here and I can’t seem to think of one person on planet earth that would enjoy the program, yet it continues to get decent ratings. It won a friggin Emmy for christsake!

Just mind blowing stuff, folks. You know what, I’m going to completely switch up the tone of this post and go a head and give a big ol’ congrats to 2 Broke Girls. You’re somehow kicking TV ass. You suck so so much, but yet you don’t at the same time. And at the end of the day, I kind of have to respect that. It’s like I want to drive to CBS Studios in Cali and release a pack of moose on their set in the hopes they’ll never film another second of the show again, but at the same time I kinda want to find out their secret and get in on the scam too.

Way to go 2 Broke Girls, you have everyone here at the mime totally perplexed.

Smack dab in the middle of Holy Week, a few days into Passover, and just a hop, skip, and a jump away from all those God fearing souls getting to once again openly partake in the lovely, tasty, and intoxicating things that they’ve been lying about abstaining from for the past 40 days. What a perfect time for some more ramblings from the religious correspondents desk, eh? My thoughts exactly.

Seriously though, Lent is like the half retarded offspring of New Year’s resolutions and rehab after a 7 minute teenage closet romp, think about it; it comes with twice the guilt ramifications if you can’t follow through and take care of it, or like forget it at the mall or something. But fear not ye Sunday morning sodomites, lent is not on the chopping block, this week I will be focusing on your Hebrew brethren.

Given that grizzly beards and a proficiency with numeros are not inherent traits to the men of my family, I had to do some digging to find out what this Passover thing is really about. Let me tell ya, its a pretty wacky party. Apparently, a couple years back a little dude named Moses, yep, that guy, got tired of scrapping sand out of his crack while being whipped a top a pyramid and decided to do something about it.

But given his passive aggressive nature, clearly depicted here, he thought it best to just walk it off rather than throw down with an early member of what is now known as the Mossad. So he rounds up his crew, lights up a fatty and goes for a little stroll round the block to cool down. However, a mixture of short term memory loss and a powerful lust for camel’s milk causes Moses to lead his buddies on a little detour into the dessert, where they spend the next 40 years wandering around. Effectively carving in stone the rule that has been passed down through the ages; you never leave the high dude in charge of the directions. Thanks chief, now we know.

Obviously Moses needs to be celebrated for his blunderous discovery that has saved the future generations hours of aimless driving around. Well, except those two jokers in the movie who refused to just order a damn happy meal at the nearest drive through. Must not have heard this story growing up, though if memory serves they were neighbors with a couple of pot heads with ‘stein’ in their last names, thought they may have mentioned it. Nevertheless, I think I’m going to far surpass my allowed limit for stereotypes in this one, so we’ll leave trying to rationalize the chaotic decision making that comes from Asians getting behind the wheel to the professionals.

Ha, good stuff. Back to the man of the hour. How does one properly celebrate this monumental hero who buckled up and doubled the amount of coarse fragments between his cheeks for the good of us all? Most would be calling for strippers and cocaine, but no way Bubba, no amount of white girl, powdered or popping naked out of a cake, can hold a candle to what these party animals got going on.

They kick er off in the same fashion as any good bender, with a big meal; or ‘Seder’ as it is known in the Kingdom of Judah. However, the meal is prepared in a way to commiserate their ancestors who followed Stoner Jew out into the desert not knowing they would be walking for 40 years. Most of them wore through their sandals within the first week, and because of this the Jewish children are served the soles from last years back to school shoes, aka ‘Matzah’ as a way of paying homage.

Even Obama was enjoying chowin down on his old basketball sneaker earlier this week in Israel.

Yum.

From there its seven more days of none stop orgy like craziness. They got pyrotechnics, sing a longs, trivia games, endurance contests, and enough distilled wheat liquor and wine to drown Ireland.

So last week I’m chillin when and I get a lil email from Kleinz 5-sev alerting me of some BIG breaking news. Ohh boy…what happened now, I wondered? Did we declare war on North Korea? Did Rihanna OD? Is Mighty Ducks 7: Quack in Black set to begin filming this summer? Nope, even better. A news story broke about former WWE star Chris “The Masterpiece” Masters saving his Mom from a burning house.

Stunned, I threw my can of Fresca at the wall and I wasn’t even drinking Fresca.

Could it be? Another WWE star proving to society that they ARE super heroes, even when not under the glimmering lights of Monday Night RAW? For those of you that forgot, a mere few months ago former WWE legend Daivari choke slammed some hobo on the Light Rail in Minneapolis, saving the entire train packed with people. An inspiring story, no doubt, but for a huge wrestling fan like myself, not in the least surprising. These guys have a civil duty to kick ass and take names when trouble is a-brewin. So, when I heard that Chris Masters saved his mom from a burning house, after I tossed an imaginary can of Fresca at my mom’s potted plant, I relaxed and thought to myself, “hell yeah, Masterpiece. Show that fire who’s boss”. It’s true. I did think that.

Before I dive into the details on this feel good story, a little background on The Masterpiece. If you’re not familiar with him, know this. Dude embodies his name like you wouldn’t believe. Like there’s jacked and then there’s unbelievably Chris Masters swoll. Straight muscle city all up in everyone’s grill. Pretty sure he got kicked out of the WWE for extensive steroid abuse, but that’s not the point. He’s cut up, y’all. His signature move was the master lock, an unbeatable full-nelson. Last I checked, nobody ever escaped from the master lock…ALIVE. He was an unstoppable force. Now, let’s rewind to freshman year of high school. JD Mcgridds was a huge WWE fan and coincidentally, a bit of a masterpiece himself. I don’t want to brag, but I was as swoll as swoll gets. Pumpin iron all day erey day will do that to ya. So when halloween rolled around I figured it only made sense for me to go as The Masterpiece. I’d be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t. Here’s a lil sneak peek:

I’m second up on the left. You know, the sexiest guy in the shot.

So anyways, me and the ‘piece go WAY back.

Now to the matter at hand, his heroic saving of his mother from a fiery inferno. Here’s what went down, and if I were you I’d buckle up. This one’s a wild one. Apparently his mother’s neighbor was going crazy and had barricaded himself inside mama masterpiece’s house threatening to burn it down. When The Piece showed up, he did just that. Now at this point in the story things normally turn tragic. Not here, friends. Chris Masters sprung into action. According to the police report he “uprooted a tree with his bare hands and used it as a battering ram to enter the house”. He tossed the tree through a window, hopped through the window, grabbed his dear ma and carried her to safety. Seconds later police rushed in and arrested the crazy neighbor on arson charges.

HO-LY shiznit.

No big deal, just heading over to my mom’s for dinner on a Sunday night…la dee daaa, oh shit! Her neighbor just set the house on fire! No time to call the fire department….what. to. do…How about I uproot this mighty oak, throw it through the window and save my mom, old school style? Boom. Done.

Just a brilliant move by a brilliant athlete. Years and years of extensive training/HGH injections finally pays off. Normal folks like you and I probably would’ve cried in the fetal position while our mother burned alive inside. Not Chris. Dude acted quicker than John Goodman asks for a desert menu at The Cheesecake Factory and saved the mother effing day.

Conclave is over, the alter boys are busy re-scotch guarding every surface inside the Vatican, and all those wrinkly Cardinals are returning with empty chambers to their respected countries. All in all I’d say it was a success since we do now have the 266th spiritual leader of the Catholic Church.
This guy:

Man, how did I miss that mug in the first two? This of course would be 76-year-old Jorge Bergoglio, archbishop of Buenos Aires and now respectfully deemed Pope Francis. Now, I know we were all hoping for our first black Pope, given the bang up job Obama’s been doing over here, but Papa Franny is the first in a few categories of his own. He is the first ever Jesuit Pope, the first non-European in the modern era, and the first to ever take the name Francis. Ironic actually, given that the Jesuits and the Franciscans see eye to eye about as often as Yankee’s fans stroll through Southie after an away win and live to tell the tale. But there are more ways than one that the new head honcho has already shown that he ain’t gona be going about business as usual.

The Pontiff wasted no time breaking with tradition when, just before his introduction to the world, turned to Cardinal Dolan of New York and whispered; “If I get up on that God damn thing I’ll go right over the f#%*!ng railing,” effectively refusing to use the platform that would elevate him higher than the other Cardinals around him, as the Popes before him have done.

Known as a very humble man and for his love of the poor, the disenfranchised and those facing injustice. Uh oh, do we got another Mother Teresa on our hands? I guess only time will tell. But, whether it was a fear of heights or a genuine act of humility, addressing a crowd at the same level of the men who, only minutes before were his equals, may have been a touching gesture and all, its not the first time the big man has gone out of his way to NOT abuse his status. While archbishop he declined the offer to have a chauffeured limousine and decided instead to travel more inconspicuously:

Yeaa Booiii.

Not only was his whip tight but this dude wasn’t about to stay in some dusty old shack like the archbishops palace, with all those servants and maids around to cramp his style. No, he found himself a nice little loft in Buenos Aires’ red light district. “I needed to be around my people,” he said, “I just felt more at home there.”

So, Mother Teresa esk? Well, debatable; but we’ll see what those crooked investigative journalists types dig up to smear his good name. God knows they have already started trying. Rumors are flying around dating back to his priest days when Argentina was torn apart by what was called the ‘Dirty War.’ Of course back then he was known as Father Jorge ‘El Rey montó’ Bergoglio, aka ‘King Dong.’

As the story goes he was given this nickname by a local pimp who during confession was distraught that he could not protect his girls from getting beaten by their johns. The good father suggested that the pimp find a way to market to a new customer base. A few hours later the pimp returned with a box, a gift for priest; inside was the severed genitalia of a man. “See,” said the pimp. “Now he has no more reason to be a customer.” Obviously there had been a miss communication but the nickname stuck nonetheless.

However, another story has emerged that back in 1976 the now holy father had a part in the kidnapping of two liberal Jesuit priests by the military dictatorship. An accusation he whole heartedly denies. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what kind of ‘proof’ is dug up on that one.

Regardless of what you believe this man is our new pope, a position of great power and influence and like all the other candidates named before has his own opinions on the “issues.” He opposes same-sex marriage and abortion, shocker, and also believes that too many Catholics, in particular American Catholics, are using contraception. Dude, are you aware how easy it is these days to watch porn? Its monkey see monkey do. Of course we’re going be bangin each others brains out by the time we hit puberty! You think Mary would have stayed a virgin if at age 16 she saw ‘Deep Throat’ for the first time? You gotta at least give us a little credit for trying to be safe about it.

But, don’t worry loyal readers of the Mime, I have faith that after a few years of rising teen pregnancies under his watch, he’ll come around.

First off I gotta throw out a little apology to my main man JD and all the loyal followers of the Underrated Hottie. Unbeknownst to me, you guys had already gotten the low down on that stone cold fox Gina C back in May of last year. Wasn’t trying to steal your thunda big dog, though I will say she certainly is of the caliber worthy of a second look. In fact, if anyone wants to do a little compare and contrast on our mild obsession with the woman warrior, here is his briefs-crowding wisdom:

Ok, I’m gona go out on a limb here and try and break in a new on going category for the mime, so let me know what you think. This list could go for days and days and will feature some of the DUMBEST human beings to ever have walked God’s green earth. I know, I know, how will we ever choose, right? Well, it will be tough but luckily there is no shortage of inspiration for this one and your friends here at the mime are willing to roll up our shirt sleeves and sift through the shit for ya to find the true gems.

If your one of those people who thinks it bad form to speak ill of the dead then fair warning, this list will not be for you. But think about it, if you are on the level of shire idiocy as the sorry sacks who’s names end up appearing below, without a doubt at some point your moronic behaviors will lead to your demise. And this is America after all, we love poking fun at other peoples shortcomings. So buck up.

Without further ado here we go.

Having the distinct honor of being our first ever character that natural selection should have stripped from this world a long, long time ago we have… Drum roll please…

That’s right, its Natasha Harris; everyone’s favorite ‘coke head’ and no I’m not talking about those delicious nose clams that rhyme with propane here, Coca-Cola was her drug of choice. Yep, she actually managed to drink herself to death on soda pop. And before you wisenhimers jump all up in my grill, no Coke is not putting cocaine in their product again. But that would be ammmaaizzziiing!

However, this is old news, well her death is at least, but it has recently been brought up in a new light due to a coroner’s findings that this mother of 8 who met her maker back in 2010 was addicted to the sugary beverage.

Let me be clear here on what I mean by “addicted” cause we aint talking a few cans a day or any sort of equivalency to you so called “caffeine addicts” still chugging along with us today. This New Zealander would throw back more than two gallons of polar bear syrup a day! Yea you read it right, A DAY! But c’mon GBz, she was a big ol gal, she could probably handle her intake, right? Meh, I’m no doctor, but apparently she also mixed in a few packs of cigs and had a food intake similar to that of a Sudanese orphan. Jesus, maybe eat a Big Mac every now and again and you wouldn’t have to fuel up on straight diabetes to stay awake you loon! Might not be the best example but you get what I’m sayin.

What did Natasha have to show for her addiction? Well, she had developed cardiac arrhythmia, an enlarged liver, her teeth had been removed because of decay and she had heroin addict like withdrawals that would even turn violent when she couldn’t get her carbonated fix. And of course, there is the biggy- a ticker that quit on her at age 31. What the hell did you think was going to happen woman?

However, this coroner that did the autopsy seems like hes a few eggs short of a dozen himself. He doesn’t think that Coca-Cola should be held financially responsible for Harris’ death, obviously; though some type of frivolous law suit attempt will surely come out of this. He does suggest the Coke consider putting a warning label on its drinks.

Buddy, what would that actually accomplish? Clearly this woman was straight up illiterate because even a pre-schooler can read the god damn health chart pyramid.

See that word near the top next to sugar-“sparingly” yea, either she needed an updated version of Webster’s or this cow just flat out couldn’t read. However, those fancy book learned types who threw this chart together thought of those special few among us who still can’t get a grasp on the kings english as well. The food groupings are arranged by size!!! If you can’t figure that out, no warning label on the side of a can is going to help.

And regardless of education or literacy level, if you don’t think there is a direct correlation between consuming 11 times the recommended amount of any substance every single day of your life and your laundry list of health problems, then well, you deserve to be either locked up or put 6 feet under. Bottom line. Certainly your kids didn’t deserve the self inflicted early departure of their mother though, bitch. See, here at the mime we do have a heart:)

If she couldn’t put two and two together then how the hell did she even get that far in life, that’s what I want to know.